


Her Echo

by ZoeGMiller



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Angst, D/s, Dominance, F/F, Fear, Mild Angst, Oral, Powerplay, Rimming, Romance, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 15:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8898001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeGMiller/pseuds/ZoeGMiller
Summary: Late at night, on the eve before battle, a visitor arrives at Camilla's quarter's with a meager request...
...make everything okay...





	

**Author's Note:**

> **(In my heart, I think of this as a sequel to[Easy Access](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6931900), but I didn't want to mess with the sublime purity of that piece of art, so I figured it's more like... a spiritual sequel?? :o ^^;;;;;;;;;;;)**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> ANYWAY. USUAL SPIEL:
> 
> Hi, I’m Zoh! If you enjoy this work, I'm available for commissions and I’ve got a ton of other work on my site, [bespokesmut.com](http://www.bespokesmut.com). Please take a look at my [commission rates](https://zoegmiller.wordpress.com/commissions/) and my [patreon](https://www.patreon.com/zohg)!
> 
> Happy reading! <3

Nights before battles had a mood all their own. The air grew still, after the grueling preparation and boisterous campfire songs died, and sometimes it would seem as if even the insects were hushed in deference of tomorrow’s coming sacrifices. Most in camp probably found this eerie.

But most in camp were not Camilla.

The eldest daughter of Nohr lounged in her sturdy, comfortable bed and read by the dim candlelight as if it were any other night. The silence improved her focus, and the slight humidity in the air tingled pleasantly along her skin. While her many comrades likely stirred in fitful slumber, worry was not a vice to which Camilla often succumbed.

Not over something so trivial as her mortality.

A knock came at her chamber door, so tentative she had to ask herself if she imagined it. 

“Come in,” she called.

When the knock sounded again—quiet, almost bashful—Camilla released a gentle sigh—anyone bold enough to visit her at this late hour shouldn’t be skulking at thresholds. 

She set her book upon the end table, drew herself from the bed, and adjusted the tie on her amber-colored silk robe as she padded across the hardwood to open the door herself. “Whoever you are, dear, I hope you’ve a perfectly good reason to—”

There stood Camilla’s obverse, Hinoka, the eldest daughter of Hoshido. 

“Ah, it’s you, darling,” Camilla took a step beyond the threshold, scanning the corridor to confirm the absence of a hidden retinue. Their solitude established, Camilla’s pleasant smile took a deeper cast, and she traced a long, slim finger along the rugged line of Hinoka’s jaw. “Of all people in this camp, you should know that to linger timidly upon my doorstep is merely wasted time—”

A rare breath of surprise overcame Camilla as Hinoka flinched away from her touch and swiftly took her by the wrist. Though the corridor was dim, even the shadows cast upon Hinoka’s face by the decaying light of flickering torches could not hide the cloud of consternation polluting her expression.

It was not just their status as eldest daughter of their respective lines that paired them so. They were a study in opposites. Where Camilla’s demeanor flowed easily as water, Hinoka was stubborn as a stone. Where Camilla’s body was soft and overfull, all but matronly, Hinoka’s training had built her into a hard core of muscle and sinew and slight of curves. Where Camilla’s lilac hair flowed long and luxurious, often it appeared as if Hinoka tamed her fire-red mane with the brusquest pair of scissors in the kingdom.

Where the eldest of Hoshido seemed to shake, gently, in the darkness, toes abutting the threshold to her lover’s quarters, and fingers strong as iron, turning her lover’s skin pale with pressure and grief, the eldest of Nohr stood placidly as the moonlight trickling in through the opened curtains.

And where the eldest of Nohr would say, tenderly as if she were dissuading a kitten’s fangs, “Dear, you’re hurting me.”

The eldest of Hoshido might reply, open and vulnerable as a lotus bloom in moonlight, “I’m afraid.”

Where the eldest of Hoshido might sob, the eldest of Nohr might draw her head against her breasts, and hold her close, frozen within that moonlight.

To each of them, they were not just another—another princess, another kingdom, another woman—but an Echo, a reflex of each other’s presence.

What words were there to waste, after that was said? Camilla reversed Hinoka’s hold on her, supplanting the firm grasp upon her own wrist with a tender embrace of Hinoka’s.

It was in the bed, lying face to face, their cheeks sinking into the luxurious bedding, Camilla realized that playful touches upon nose and lips and dancing fingers through tousled hair would not be enough to quell the all-too-subtle shivers that sprung gooseflesh upon the tanned skin of Hinoka’s toned arms, nor would it banish the glassy, stolid glaze that overwhelmed Hinoka’s fiery, otherwise unquenchable eyes.

And so, Camilla turned away from her love, and an ephemeral cry rose and died in Hinoka’s throat. A mournful sound, almost like an animal, at the mere suggestion of denial, that she would no longer be allowed to gaze upon her lover’s face. A hand caught Camilla by the elbow, weakly, fingers unsure, losing traction along the silky robe, as if they lacking the strength to maintain their hold. Return to me, she silently begged, Give me this, give me anything, anything of you. 

But Camilla had greater things in mind.

Facing away, to her side she tucked the length of her robe, exposing the pale skin of her thigh. But Hinoka’s tentative whimper at the sight died in her throat as she watched Camilla take the full, wonderful swell of her rear and spread herself open for her love.

What words were there to waste, after that was done? The eldest daughter of Nohr issued her verdict, and the eldest daughter of Hoshido understood her role.

Hinoka ducked her head. She cleaved to her love, fitting her small breasts against the curve of Camilla’s back, and pressing her face into the warm, welcoming nook between Camilla’s shoulder blades. She held there, marveling at the softness of Camilla’s robe against her cheek, at the thunder that had fired in her heart, at the terrible stillness of the air, and even the silence of the insects outside, the peculiarity of their absence wonderful, in this fragile moment.

And then, without need of further instruction, with no further command, she descended.

As Hinoka’s nose slid ably along the cleft of her, Camilla’s fingers released, and those soft, full cheeks enfolded her perception. The earthy aroma of mild sweat overcame Hinoka’s senses, and she pulled deep into herself the essence of Camilla with every breath. She nuzzled gently, and breathed deep; the heat from her lungs was warm and damp upon this hidden entrance of her love, and Camilla let free a subtle shiver at the proximity, even this incipient attention drawing a tremble along her skin, and she unleashed a brief moan into the thick night air.

Hoshido’s eldest daughter thrilled to the sound. What could be more perfect? Her existence could be compacted, for this brief time, summed in the will and desire of her Echo, her existence justified by her pleasure. Never could she be happier than proving her worth with her tongue so. She could banish these thoughts, these fears, these wants, these hopes, and these dreams. Never did things feel as correct as they did in these moments, painful in their beauty, in their simplicity and, most of all, their brevity. Each inhalation brought the prevailing allure of Camilla’s body deeper into her, and, through that, she knew her role. Slowly, cautiously, her tongue eked forward, testing boldly at resistance, and entered her Echo.

Electricity danced down Camilla’s spine as Hinoka’s ministration commenced in truth. Her intermittent trembles joined one another, a subtle dance that roved along her sensitive skin, and she slipped a hand into her open robe, pressing into the curve of her stomach, relishing in the cool feeling of her palm, and closing her eyes with a tender cry—the effort of accepting her Echo’s advance into her. Reading the subtle writhe of her lover’s body, Hinoka delved deep—what need had she to be more than she is? It was hardly debasement when it was a desire; when it completed her so.

Almost as if it caused her pain—this rigor, this use, this pleasure—Camilla curtailed a shock of a gasp in her throat, reaching back and grabbing the scruff of hair at Hinoka’s nape, not begging her deeper—indeed, could one like Camilla ever truly beg for anything? Were such a thing even possible, even in these moments? With firm hand, Camilla forced Hinoka deeper, into Her.

Camilla’s flesh muffled Hinoka’s yelp of surprise as she was forced within, to worship the secret warmth of her—where she belonged, the only place that could truly claim that honor. With fingernails drawing tentative welts from Camilla’s generous cheeks, Hinoka devoured her love, breathed her in. Each sound seemed to echo into eternity, in this quiet, closed space, and—though it felt as if she might stop breathing at any moment, lose her breath, her self, and everything—Hinoka could do naught but redouble her effort. 

Camilla resisted the quiver of her shape, the shiver this attention brings to her—some heady tincture of strength and poise thrilling through her head. Her chest felt tight, her body warm, and the satin-soft texture of her robe cloying and abrasive to her sensitive breasts and stiffening nipples. Desperate, she began the exploration of her stomach with her fingers, drawing her own sensations from her skin. With her other hand she held tight to her Echo, firmly, by the hair. A bond unlike any other – family, lover, peer, servant, or animal, she held tight to her Echo as she might to herself.

Hinoka steeled herself, grew harder, with every thrust of her tongue. Discipline ran through her, straightening her spine, adding vim to her muscles, and even her shoulders unwound—freed of their night-long worry and fear—only to tensed, so eager, her body all electric, alive with desire to serve…

But service is discipline, even to a princess of Hoshido. 

Camilla dug her nails into her flesh, as if that meager flicker of pain could somehow subsume this flaring pleasure. A gasp brought her to lucid attention, and, with an abashed mirth at her lack of composure, she realized it was her own, as Hinoka’s deft thrusting—truly, a rider? This princess would make a better fencer. Panting with the effort of this claiming, Camilla became conscious of the heave of her breath and the chill of sweat that beaded flagrantly upon her brow. 

Hinoka groaned, hips bucking empty space, the roil and thrash of her lower body unquenchable—it did not know what its owner did. A voracious body, this eldest daughter of Hoshido. The pain in her scalp from the pull of manicured nails at her hair, the mark of Nohr-perfumed scent upon her, and the trembling of her Echo were greater rewards than she could ever hope for, and all she could truly ask to receive. Even in her bliss, Camilla had moments to wonder if a body such as that would ever calm, if it could ever truly be sated.

Not long moments. Now, she digs her fingertips in a different way, furrowing into herself, spearheading a path into her body, and drawing out a pleasure Hinoka could never hope to give Camilla herself—and yet one that none but Hinoka could ever elicit.

For Hinoka, it was ever enough to give all of herself to be a part of her Echo—lips parted wide, tongue deep within; Knowing, as no other could. She drives, to the full extent of her body, of her capability, of her being. Her tongue is her weapon; she uses it brazenly, and in a manner that ill befits her position. Camilla trembled, Hinoka’s intrusion into her body mirroring her own. Her spine stood stiff as her nipples, and her lilac hair tickled along Hinoka’s brow as her head threw back, overwhelmed by the imbuement of this love—taken, in this way; unavailable to any others; she takes Her, and She is hers.

Though, if there were any fair gods in any good heavens, Hinoka shared a fraction of these thoughts, of the heady intoxication of this moment, she did not slow, did not falter. Lilac danced across her view. What duty more sacred than this? What cause greater than her pleasure? What vessel better than her tongue, lithe, to bring her Echo’s taste and scent, to bring to her Echo sensation? Lilac. Though its radiance is muted in the darkness, she can yet see color. In the midst of turmoil and fear, she accepts the command and love of her Echo, and gives in return everything. There, in that, she finds peace. Lilac. 

And so she committed herself to that which had purpose, which had value. She turned Camilla to the bed, and in this desperate way, she consumed her, this eldest daughter of Nohr, drawing her up by her hips, onto elbows and knees. Brusquely positioned, Camilla gasped; she has filled, she has ensconced. Her core seized with the flutter of her fingers, and Hinoka’s brute positioning of her body. Camilla thrilled, mounted in this way, ardently questing compress of Hinoka’s tongue as her Echo fell upon her like a heated beast.

In her in her rapacity, Hinoka did not think how her need could be interpreted as impertinence—she would never want it so. It was only that… she was so very hungry. Camilla’s toes curled, and her nails bit, painful, at Hinoka’s scalp, warning that retreat was impossible, that escape was futile that, even, if Hinoka might drown in her, Camilla would expect to be thanked for the privilege.

In truth, this is the lesson Hinoka knew—whether it be the chambers of her love of the battlefield, there is no retreat, only ever forward. Whether in love or in battle, one must scrabble for anything they hold dear. This was no new lesson; Hinoka had learned it many times over many years. 

…only, she needed to be reminded.

Camilla’s breathing grew labored, and her fingers flew against, along, and within her body as she twinned to the motions of her Echo inside her, and she flung herself over this desperate, invisible precipice. She cried out, releasing herself with a sound as small and foolish as a whimper—quite unbecoming, for the eldest daughter of Nohr.

The piquant scent of her arousal filtered through the chamber’s air, almost tangible, filling Hinoka’s sinuses until she through she might choke on it, suffusing her pores until it felt like theft. This was her commendation, the essence of her relief, of her release, which Camilla drew fully out of herself; a task Hinoka could not perform—on other nights, perhaps, but not this night. She was strong, this eldest daughter of Hoshido, but she craved stronger. When she felt weak. So she could feel weak. 

And without Hinoka, it was a task that could not be performed. Neither of the two could find the same release, the same complete fulfillment, without her Echo. Camilla collapsed upon the bed, when the doing was done, and, in understanding of this release, drawing in the scarce few breaths an eldest daughter of Nohr required to compose herself. 

Sometime, during the space of their effort, the crickets had returned to the night.

Camilla patted Hinoka affectionately on the cheek, drafting her fingers through her own scent, left upon her love. Their eyes met in the stillness, observed only by each other (and, perhaps, the crickets). Camilla’s lips parted in tender smile, and her eyes glowed like fireflies in the dark. Hinoka finded herself suddenly bashful—and pertinently aware…

After a breath, Hinoka shook out her hair, proud Hoshidan princess once more, wreathed in her Echo, and stronger for it. Searching her heart, she found naught but quiet peace—and, admittedly, the terrible exhaustion of hard effort, which swelled her lungs to bursting with each breath.

Hinoka slumped, slightly, her rear high, folding her forearms and resting them atop Camilla’s reclining thighs, retreating upon permission into the paradise they’d made together. As they lay there, listening to the singing of night-insects and melding their retreating warmth, their hoarse panting grew calm, with time, until the precious sounds of their breathing, beneath the creaking chirps of the insects, became but echoes in the night.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this work and feel like leaving a comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> You can find my commission info [here](https://zoegmiller.wordpress.com/commissions/), and don’t forget to look me up on [patreon](https://www.patreon.com/zohg)!!
> 
> <3 Thank you for reading! <3
> 
> **(AAAAH I WANT TO MARRY STUPID DUMB CUTE HINOKA *^o^*)**


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